Dragon's Heart
by EmeraldCube
Summary: A young Breton flees to Skyrim in search of a quiet life studying magic. But the dragons return and a quiet life is denied him. Now, a young man must save a world he would rather ignore while learning to control the spirit of a Dragon inside him and the unquenchable thirst for power and control that comes with it.


**This is an opening chapter for Dragon's Heart, a concept I have had for some time. I'm hoping to blend together some concepts around dragons I've encountered in other fiction and apply it to the world of Skyrim in my own way. Warnings right now this story is most likely going to feature a lot of scenes of a sexual nature and of a non traditional variety, provided it gets to that point. A few heads might have perked up at that while a few will be less enthused when I say non traditional so I'll also preface it here any significant relationships that get "ahem" _screentime_ in this story will be strictly M/F or F/F in nature. **

**Things will most likely be slow to start and I don't have any idea of how quickly I will be writing this. The rate I'll be publishing will most likely be determined by the response I get to the story. In an ideal world I'd like to turn this and anything else I write into something worth supporting on the patronage site that shall not be named.**

**Anyway, enjoy this short snippet.**

**Prologue**

The cart's jostling must have woken the Breton boy up Ralof thought as he saw the skinny, sickly young man open his eyes tiredly.

"Where am I?" He managed to ask with a rough voice and chapped lips. The boy lifted his head and looked around with sapphire blue eyes through his unkept and unwashed copper coloured hair. Despite the boy's ragged appearance, Ralof was impressed by the fortitude he must have had considering the state they had found him only a few hours ago.

"We're on our way to Helgen," Ralof said. The boy's eyes focused wearily on him. "We found you passed out on the road as we were leaving the Reach. My men gave you some potions and our priest cast some restoration magic on you. We'd left you in a cot to rest when the empire caught us off guard. Now…"

"Now we're off to get ourselves executed!" A hysterical voice said from next to the boy. "you see that," the thief gestured with his head towards the fourth man in the cart with them. "That's Jarl Ulfric himself! We're going to be executed."

At the mention of execution the boy's eyes suddenly became far more alert. Ralof knew that fire when he saw it. There was a strength there, despite whatever the boy had been through to bring him low before he was not the type to go down easily.

"What's your name son?" Ralof asked.

"Calen, Calen Magius," the boy replied.

"I'm Ralof, from Riverwood. It's a village about half ways between here and Whiterun."

"I'm from Daggerfall," the boy replied. "Thank you for rescuing me I didn't think the cold would get as bad as it did north of Bruma."

Ralof chuckled. "Yeah, tis always a surprise for newcomers. Skyrim isn't for the weak, only the strongest folk can survive the cold this far North. Though I don't think thanks are necessary, considering."

At this point the cart had passed into the town and the conversation halted as they were beheld by the surrounding populace of Helgen. A few of the citizens stood to watch them as they passed. Ralof heard a few comments here and there but didn't get the gist of anything most were saying. One voice cried out "death to the Stormcloaks!" Another, a child's voice was hushed by a parent and he heard the same boy being told to get inside by an anxious parent. Ralof was at least glad for that. It wasn't right for children to be exposed to death at such a young age no matter what some people said.

And then they arrived.

They were brought to a stop near the south gate which was open but covered by a number of imperial soldiers. There were fifty or so survivors of the ambush and they had been assembled into a line. Ralof, Ulfric and the other two were brought down into the procession. Ulfric was pulled aside while the rest of them were pushed into the middle of the procession.

Ralof caught a glimpse of golden plate armour. Was that General Tulius? Here to see Ulfric's death for himself no doubt. Ralof couldn't necessarily blame him. Ulfric was a tough customer and had escaped certain death a number of times since the rebellion had started. He would want to see this to the end himself.

Ralof found himself behind Calen with Jarl Ulfric put to the back of the line. They were going to execute him last to make a statement. The horse thief was somewhere else behind him.

In front of him Ralof noticed the boy was doing something with his hands, tied up as they were behind him. The boy was fiddling with a ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It was gold, and by the shape of it had a large decorative part at the front. It was turned away through and Ralof could not get a good look at it.

"Mara, Akatosh, Kynareth…" the horse thief prayed behind him, muttering worthless pleas to Gods who even if they were interested in such a poor excuse for a Nord wouldn't be able to save him in time now.

"Next prisoner!" a familiar voice shouted from the front of the line. Ralof turned to see Hadvar, traitor that he was, of all people taking a roll of the prisoners' names with an Imperial woman decked out in heavy armour overseeing the procedure.

Regardless of the fury that suddenly overtook him at seeing his childhood friend on the side of the Imperial cowards something more important grabbed his attention. How on Earth did they have a _list_ of their _names_?

Ralof put it aside though. Maybe they had been betrayed by someone back home In Winterhold or a thief had somehow stolen the information. It was the only way the details of their party could have been acquired by the Imperials and their Thalmor masters. That wouldn't matter shortly though. Once they had Ulfric's head the rebellion would falter and probably end.

Damned traitors.

Ralof and the rest watched as proud sons and daughter of Skyrim was brought forward one after another. Each name was taken and ticked off before being escorted to the chopping block in the square. Most went proudly and with honour Ralof was pleased to see. A few others wept, whether at facing their imminent death or the loss of the rebellion Ralof didn't know but wouldn't begrudge them that. One large burly man who gave the impression he'd been raised by giants tried to struggle, calling for Talos to smite down the Imperials even as they put him to the sword instead of wrestling him down.

With a sigh of grief Ralof watched as his subordinates one by one were executed until the line had been shortened considerably. Then in no time at all the line was shortened and Calen was next, Ralof right behind him. Hadvar called the boy to step forward.

"Name," Hadvar asked. Ralof noticed that his voice was wavering, was he feeling grief at seeing his brothers of Skyrim, more honourable men than him, being put to block?

"Calen Magius," the boy replied, he did not stutter. If anything Ralof felt the boy sounded defiant and proud more than anything else. He would have made a good Nord that's for sure. "I only just arrived in Skyrim, I have nothing to do with the rebellion."

A second later Hadvar turned to the woman in full plate.

"Captain what should we do? he's not on the list."

"Forget the list," the woman said with scorn in her voice. She looked the boy up and down with a sneer. "He goes to the block."

Ralof gasped in shock, as did a few others in earshot. "Wait!" he shouted, "the boy wasn't with us. He isn't a criminal, he was just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

The woman looked at Ralof with sick glee. "He _goes_ to the _block_."

"_What!" _Calen ground out, "You're just going to kill me for nothing. Not even going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

In a louder voice he declared, "I didn't believe the stories that the Imperials had fallen so low under the Thalmor's thumb. What a disgusting bunch of doshonourable wretches the Empire has become."

There was a collective silence as the surrounding people both Imperial soldiers and Rebel prisoners alike were left speechless at the vitriol coming from the fairly short young man.

He'd only known the lad a scant few minutes really but Ralof felt in that moment a great deal of pride for this stranger to speak so openly.

"No more delays. To the block!" The imperial Captain commanded authoritatively.

"No," Calen stated. "I refuse."

Ralof was shocked and leapt when fire suddenly sprouted between him and the boy. He realised in that moment when Calen pulled his unfettered arms from behind him that it must have been fire magic. Of course, while magic in Skyrim of any kind was pretty rare. A Breton, one from _Daggerfall_ no less would know how to cast fire!

Calen brought his arms up, green magic visibly swirling in his left hand, the other was burnt and covered in soot from the remains of the ropes he'd burnt off himself.

"I refuse to die to this!" The boy declared and released the magic in his other hand.

He disappeared from sight with an invisibility spell of some sort as the Imperial soldiers drew their swords to cut down the escapee. A few went to secure the rest of the prisoners to prevent them trying any escape attempts of their own. The two closest swung their swords in the area the boy had been but cut nothing but air.

"Mages! The Captain ordered, break that spell!"

Three soldiers who wore hoods over their light armour stepped forward and each began to cast magic. One, bearing the insignia and superior armour of a higher class soldier cast a large area of effect spell onto the ground at his feet. Purple light spread out in a circular wave from the point of contact, passing through Ralof and all those present. Despite all of that, Calen did not reappear.

"Detect Life!" the lead mage shouted to his two companions.

The other two soldiers were still in the process of casting their own magic but cancelled whatever they were doing to begin again. Each of the three mages began to cast the life detection magic that Ralof knew had made fools of the Stormcloaks when they had tried to set up night ambushes back in the early days of the rebellion. The two subordinates were much faster casting this magic and a couple of seconds later their eyes glowed with the tell-tale light of the spell.

Furiously the three mages looked around, backing against each other and turning as they looked around carefully, each looking in different directions.

"Nothing," one of the lower ranked mages reported a few seconds later, followed closely by the other saying the same thing.

The mage's leader shook his head in confusion. "I have nothing here either ma'am," he stated in bewilderment and frustration.

"Damnit!" the Captain cursed.

Ralof sighed in relief as the Imperials spent the next several minutes ineffectively searching for the boy. it was clear in the next several minutes that they were not going to find him though. At least someone was going to survive this.

It was at least twenty minutes later that the Imperials gave up on their search. Calen was long gone.

Things were swiftly brought back into order over the next ten minutes or so. Ralof was next in line. He stared daggers at Hadvar as the man looked at him in horrified recognition. For a moment Ralof saw anguish on the hardened Nord's face before his expression became blank.

Bravely, Ralof stepped forward to his impending death.

That was the moment when the Dragon attacked.


End file.
